


Cacophony

by starcatcher2149



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Hunters, Hurt Dean, Hurt Sam Winchester, Immortality, Magic, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, No Definite Time Frame, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Season 3 (?) AU, Supernatural violence, Unknown threat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-03-15 23:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starcatcher2149/pseuds/starcatcher2149
Summary: Sam and Dean are pulled into a case that dates back nearly two decades. They quickly discover that the monster they're after has a different agenda. Will the brothers be able to stop the killing or will they become the next victims?





	1. Chapter 1

  "Sam, I don't know what your obsession with this case is. It's not like anyone we know is getting hurt." Dean commented over the table at his brother. "You haven't been able to put those files down."

        Sam briefly glanced up at his brother then immediately back down at the files he held in his hands. "It just doesn't make any sense. The people who are dying have no connections to each other. And, when I say no connections, I mean absolutely none - except for the fact that they all live in the same city, but that's really a given. Their properties aren't developed on any burial sites, they don't believe in the same religions, they don't have kids, only a few are married, they didn't attend the same high schools, and none of them even work in the same places. It's completely random. And the way they died? It's so grossly ritualistic. Every kill is the exact same. There's absolutely no variation. I just don't understand it."

        Dean nodded, "Agreed. But can it wait until we go out and get breakfast? I'm starving and we didn't stop for food last night cause you were too excited to get here." 

        Sam rolled his eyes and closed the file, "Fine. But I'm taking the files with us." He stood from the small table in their motel room and started pulling his FBI suit out of his bag. "Did you already call the police department?"

        "Yeah. And they already called in to Bobby. They're so desperate for help on this case. I mean, who wouldn't be? Small down, half a dozen ritualistic murders? The NYPD wouldn't be properly equipped to handle something like this."  Dean replied as he started to change. "So, you have any running theories that I should know about?"

        "I mean, it's definitely a Witch. That's an absolute. The sophisticated level of these murders rules out everything else. And we can rule out Wiccan, because they usually aren't as showy about their kills - if they even kill. Which is relatively rare." Sam said while pulling on his suit jacket. "The what is pretty easy, it's the why that I'm concerned about. If the witch is just killing to kill, then we could be looking at an entire massacre. Am if we don't catch them now then we could be looking at the same things happening all over the country."

        "You really don't like witches." 

        Sam cocked an eyebrow, "Who does? They're selfish and power hungry and they don't play by the rules."

        "Play by the rules? What is this, kindergarten?"

        The younger Winchester shook his head, "You know what I mean. There aren't certain days or times where they attack. It's whenever they want for whatever reasons they want."

        Dean nodded, "And they're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere. Would it kill them to keep their blood inside of their bodies? It's exhausting trying to clean up their messes."

        "I second that." Sam slung a bag with the case flies and his laptop over his shoulder. "You ready to go?"

        Dean slid his foot into his shoe and nodded. "Yup. There was a diner just in town. We passed it when we were getting here."

        "Of course you would notice that." Sam commented with a smirk. 

        "What?" Dean asked as he slid a fake badge into his jacket. "I notice those kind of things when I'm hungry. Can't exactly focus on Witches when my stomach won't leave me alone."

        "You're ridiculous."

        "Oh, I'm the ridiculous one?" Dean scoffed. "You're the one who is unhealthily obsessed with this case. I'd call that pretty ridiculous."

        Sam rolled his eyes and headed out of the small room, "You've got just as many issues with Witches as I do."

        Dean followed his brother from the room, "Yeah, but I'm not drooling over these files."

        "I'm not drooling!" Sam shot back, hopelessly trying to defend his honor.

        Dean shook his head and slid into the drivers seat of the impala, "I'm just messing with you. No need to get so defensive."

        Sam snorted and slumped into the passenger seat. "I'm not defensive."

        "Are too."

        "I definitely am not."

        "You may not be defensive, but you definitely are insufferable. I don't know how I've put up with you so long. You think I would have gone insane."

        "Would have? I think you're in the process of."

        "Oh, you would know if I was in the process of going crazy. That's not something I would really be able to hide." Dean retorted as he pulled out of the motel parking lot. 

        Sam clicked his tongue and shook his head, "I don't think you would be good at hiding it. I feel like I would really be able to tell."

        "I guess only time will tell." Dean looked down the road, "But all my bets are on you going crazy first."

        "Why me? Now  _that_ is absolutely ridiculous. It is definitely going to be you first." 

        "I guess you did get a convenient little break when you went to college. But, that also could help drive you crazy faster. From what I've heard college isn't a fun place to be."

        Sam snorted. "You've heard a lot of things, Dean."

        "And most of them are from very informed sources. I've never really been wrong in the past."

        "'Never really' still allows for you to be wrong."

        "Yeah, but it's still not very often. So... anyways," Dean turned onto the main road that led into town. "How are we planning on going about this?"

        "Well, first we need to figure out why these people are being targeted so that we can try and protect any other potential targets. Then we need to figure out the witch's signature and see if we can link it to any known witches. If we can figure out if they're connected to anyone, then we can try and figure out how to stop them. We also need to figure out if there are any covens near here that may be linked to these murders - or even if they can give us any info on what's happening."

        "Do you know if any hunters have come through or around here lately?" Dean asked.

        Sam shook his head, "I'm not sure, but we can call Bobby and find out. I don't think there would have been any reason for hunters to come through here recently, though. I was looking at some of the stats on the area. There haven't been monster attacks here since... the 70's I think was the most recent one. And even that was just a vamp or two. Only one person was hurt. Nothing like this."

        Dean thought for a second, "That's bizarre. Usually witches stick to highly populated areas with high monster rates. That way they don't stand out as much; figure they'll just get swept up into the rings of monster attacks. No one will really call them out on it when there's vamp nests and ghosts terrorizing the people."

        "Yeah. This is definitely out of the ordinary."

        The older Winchester snorted as he pulled into the parking lot outside of the quaint diner. "What isn't these days." He parked the impala and started to get out of the car. "Don't bring any unnecessary attention to ourselves. Since the town is so small it's gotta be tight knit. Strangers would normally set whispers flying, but with everything that's happening, they're bound to be immediately suspicious. And if might freak them out more once they find out that we're FBI. Law enforcement tends to set a lot of nervous people well over the edge."

        Sam shrugged, "Which is understandable. If they're own law enforcement couldn't do anything, then who's saying that someone else can."

        "Normal people are weird." Dean muttered. "Now come on. I think I just got hungrier."

        "More hungry." Sam corrected.

        "What?"

        "It's not 'hungrier'. It's more hungry."

        "You're annoying."

        "But right."

        "Maybe. But mostly annoying."

        Sam shook his head and entered the diner ahead of his brother. The restaurant was mostly full, so the moment Sam and Dean were noticed, the diner went silent. No one spoke as the watched Sam and Dean make their way to a small open table near the back of the room. Once they were seated a blast of whispers shot through the room, all of them nervous and suspicious. The brothers had just sat down when a young man, probably not older than twenty-five, approached their table. He smiled at them - although it seemed very forced - and pulled a small notepad out of his half apron. "Morning. My name's Adrian and I'm going to be taking care of you this morning. Have you had a chance to browse our menu?"

        "Not yet, but I'm just going to start with a coffee." Dean said.

        The waiter placed his notepad back in his apron and looked to the other guest, "And for you?"

        "I'll just start with a coffee, too." Sam replied.

        Adrian nodded and smiled again, "I'll go get that ready for you guys while you take a look at the menu. Be back in a second." He turned on his heel and made his way back into the kitchen.

        "He was friendlier than I would have expected." Dean commented once the waiter was out of sight.

        Sam shrugged, "You'll be friendly to anyone when there are tips on the line."

        "Oh yeah?"

        "I waited tables for a little bit at Stanford."

        "I thought you had some work study." Dean said as he opened his menu.

        Sam followed suit as he responded, "I had to do something my freshmen year. I wasn't exactly sent off with a huge pile of cash waiting for me and living in California isn't exactly cheap."

        A few moments later the server arrived back at their table and set two steaming mugs down in front of the brothers. "So, we ready to order now?"

        Sam set the menu down, "I think I'm just going to stick with the coffee."

        Dean gave his brother a questioning look, but quickly turned to the waiter, "I'll get your meat-lovers omelette and an extra side of bacon." He pointed to Sam, "He'll probably be eyeing some later."

        Adrian took down the order and nodded, "Alright. That should be out for you shortly. I'll get those menus out of your way. Again, my name is Adrian, so just holler if you need anything." He picked the menus up off their table and strode back into the kitchen. 

        "I can really not imagine you doing this, man." Dean said.

        "Why? Cause it doesn't involve copious amounts of blood?" Sam retorted. 

        The older shook his head, "Nah, because you gotta be so... friendly. I don't know. You just don't seem like the kind of person who could hold down a job that included you being nice to people."

        "Oh, I didn't."

        "What?"

        Sam took a sip of his coffee, a smirk on his face, "Well, you see I was going at it when I started. The people there were nice enough. But, I got so fed up. There was this one lady who was a regular and she was an absolute bitch. She ate too much, was too loud, and was all buddy-buddy with everyone who worked in the restaurant. And she would always come in at our busiest times. So, I wouldn't serve her when I was busy, and she got so pissed that she started yelling at me and I yelled back and it turned into a screaming match."

        Dean snorted, "So you got fired?"

        "I didn't stay long enough to be officially fired."

        "You're such a drama queen."

        "Dean, you wouldn't last two days in a normal job."

        He scoffed and mocked offense, "I absolutely would. And if this job wasn't so demanding of my time I would absolutely challenge you to see which one of us would last longer in a normal job."

        Sam chuckled and took another sip from his mug, "I don't even think you would get hired."

        "Oh, I would."

        "Would you?"

        "Yes. I am very charming."

        "I don't know. You -"

        "Sorry to interrupt you two." A stern voice came from beside their table. The two looked over to see a tall woman standing beside them with her arms crossed over her chest. "I didn't want to bother you cause you look like you're having  _so_ much  _fun_ , but my name is Captain Cora Orins and I'm the head of the police department here in South Pike. I'm assuming the two of you are the FBI agents that were supposed to meet me at the station two hours ago."

        Dean looked at the woman, confusion written on his features, "I wasn't aware we were supposed to meet you so early this morning."

        "Well, I assumed that you would know to meet me as soon as my shift started - which I explicitly told you began at six in the morning."

        "I'm sorry, Captain. You didn't make a meeting time clear." Sam said, placing his mug back on the table.

        "I also assumed that, due to the gravity of this case, you would come to my station as soon as you arrived so we could immediately tackle this case. But, as it seems, this case is not important to either of you." Captain Orins ground out.

        "Ma'am -" Dean started.

        "Captain." She snapped.

        Dean forced a smile, "Right, sorry. Captain Orins, we only just arrived in town ourselves and we didn't stop to eat on the road so we just wanted to grab something real quick. But, if you want agents who haven't eaten in twenty four hours working on this case then we'll drop everything and come with you." 

        She moved her hands to rest them on her hips. "No. It's fine. I just wanted to make sure that you know how serious I am about finishing this case. I don't want any more of my people down in the morgue." 

        Dean nodded. "Of course. We completely understand that. So, if you would just give us twenty minutes. You can even sit and watch us eat if you're worried about us taking too long."

        The Captain shook her head, "Don't be ridiculous. But, now I expect you at my office in half an hour. Don't let anyone keep you." She nodded to them both and exited from the diner.

        Dean turned to Sam with a raise of his eyebrows. "That was a little odd."

        Sam shrugged, "She's just worried. Six people in two weeks? That's a lot to handle when the worse you've dealt with is a carjacking."

        "Fair." Dean agreed.

        A minute later Adrian walked out with two plates. One with an omelette on it and the other with a couple strips of bacon. "There you guys go. I hope you enjoy."

        Sam leaned over to his brother as Adrian walked away, "Okay. If I'm being honest, he seems way too happy to be living in a town with a maniac on the loose."

        "Agreed. We'll have to keep an eye on him and anyone else who doesn't seem to fit our "scared towns-person" type. Now get something in you. I'm not in the mood to deal with a cranky Sam."

        "Are you ever?"

        He shook his head. "Not really."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this chapter. You get your first look at our 'unknown threat' at the end. This fic is does not have a beta, so don't hesitate to give me any grammar or plot advice. I love to hear your thoughts about what I write! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Winchester's POV

        "You ready to go?" Sam asked after they had finished eating. 

        Dean nodded and pulled some money from his wallet and set them on the table. "Yeah. Let's get going before that police Captain comes back and bitches at us again."

        Sam rolled his eyes and slipped his bag over his shoulder as he stood, "It's weird that she uses the title Captain. Don't small town departments have sheriffs?"

        "Usually. But, I guess it doesn't really matter that much. Maybe Captain just sounds more 'in charge'." Dean said. "I think I would rather be a captain than a sheriff, but that's just me."

        "Of course you would, Dean." Sam left the diner ahead of his brother and got back into the impala. Once Dean was in his seat Sam asked, "So what's our plan once we get to the police station?"

        "Well, we need to go to the houses. Check for hex bags or other signatures that could lead us to our witch. We need to know what kind of magic we're actually dealing with. Hex bags and there's dark magic. That kind of magic is a lot older and harder to master - as you know."

        "What happens if we don't find hex bags? I don't remember ever working a witch case where there wasn't one." Sam said. 

        Dean sighed as he drove out of the lot, "I only worked a case once like that with Dad when you were off at Stanford. We never caught the witch, because there wasn't a hex bag." He thought for a second. "Come to think of it... that case was a lot like this one."

        "How could you have even been sure you were going after a witch if there wasn't a hex bag?"

        Dean shrugged, "Honestly, we weren't really. I've never seen Dad that frustrated before. He got so caught up in the initial signs, but it just went dry after about a week."

        "What about the cases were the same?"

        "The same types of killing. The victims weren't connected in any way and there was hardly any evidence left at the crime scenes."

        Sam raised an eyebrow. "Dean. That's the exact same case. Why didn't you think to bring it up before now?"

        The older brother shrugged. "I don't know. It just didn't click until you asked about now having hex bags." 

        "It's definitely weird that there wasn't a hex bag. Most witches can't kill unless they have hex bags." Sam noted. "I think we should just scrap the entire notion that we're looking for a witch. Cause if we only focus on finding witches then our trail will go cold just like yours did with Dad."

        Dean considered that for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah. If we find hex bags then we'll get back on the witch train."

        "Then what could it be if not a witch?" Sam asked, his mind racing to find an answer to his question. 

        "I don't know. I've only seen witches have this type of magic before. So either its a wicked powerful witch or something we've never dealt with before. And I don't know which one freaks me out more."

 

        A few minutes later the impala turned into a parking space just outside the police station. Dean quickly parked the car and the brothers made their way into the station. The moment they entered Captain Orins approached them. "That was twenty nine minutes on the dot. I was getting a little worried you wouldn't show."

        Dean shrugged, "Got held up by the food. Would've been here quicker if it wasn't so good."

       Orins nodded and raised a hand, "Now, before I let you any further into my station I do want to see some positive ID and actually know the names of the people I'm handing my case over to."

        Sam pulled his fake badge from his jacket pocket, "Special Agent Breaker."

        Dean followed suit and said, "Special Agent Turner," as he flipped the small case open.

        When Orins was satisfied with their identification she turned and led them further into the building. She took them into a medium sized room that had files stacked on a round table in the center of the room. The blinds were closed on all the windows and Orins closed the door behind them. "This is all the evidence, statements, crime scene photos, and M.E. reports from the deaths."        

        "This is all the evidence?" Sam asked, his tone confused as he didn't see any boxes on the table.

        Orins snorted, "Yeah. As you can tell, there isn't any. We found a couple partial prints, but nothing that could be useful in obtaining an ID. There was just... nothing at the crime scenes. No murder weapons, no broken locks, no finger prints, no hair, no boot prints. Nothing. Whoever this is, they're a master and need to be stopped."

        Dean sighed, "Agreed. Now, would you just give us a minute to go through all this. A new set of completely fresh eyes may do some good. And, not that we don't value your input, we just don't want you to get distracted by any personal connections you may have to the victims."

        The Captain nodded, "No, of course. I've got some other work to catch up on, so I'll be in my office right across the hall if you have any questions about anything."

        "Thank you," Sam said, not taking his eyes off the woman until she had exited the room and the door snapped shut behind her. He immediately turned to his brother, "there's nothing here."

        "I know," Dean replied as he sat at the table and started shifting through the slim files, "all of this happened when the victim was home alone, so there's no witness statements to go off of. No one even heard anything. You'd think there would be all kinds of screaming that the neighbors would hear." He shook his head, "None of the 911 calls were made until hours after the victims were killed."

        Sam nodded and sat across from his brother. He opened a file to reveal gruesome crime scene photos, "Well, whoever it was, they certainly weren't holding back. Ears cut off, back completely cut into, legs ripped to shreds. The overkill is intense."

        "It's unbelievably that none of this was done with a physical weapon. It's all definitely magic."

        "Oh, for sure. There's no jaggedness to any of the cuts and they're all so precise. Nothing physical did this." Sam commented as he scanned the photos. "And  it's no surprise there's no sign of forced entry. No one would lock their doors in a close knit town life this."

        "I'm sure their houses are secured like Fort Knox now." Dean muttered.

        "Probably." Sam agreed. "And that might help us catch whoever this is."

        "How so? How do we know the killer hasn't moved on already?"

        The younger brother shrugged, "I don't know. It just feels... unfinished. How many deaths were there the last time this case came up?"

        "Ten. But that doesn't mean ten will be killed here."

        "Maybe..."

        Dean raised an eyebrow. "What are you thinking?"

        "It's odd that none of the residents attended the same high school or had similar jobs at any point. In a small town like this they should have all gone to the same high school and been in classes with each other. Right?"

        "That would make sense."

        Sam pulled all six of the personnel files towards him and flipped them open, "Dean, I know what they missed."

        "What?"

        He turned the files towards Dean so he could read them, "None of the victims are originally from here. They all either moved here on their own or were married into this town. And I'm almost positive that the same thing would be true if you went back and looked at the other case."

        "So, that means they could be connected in their lives before they came to this town."

        Sam nodded, "Oh, I'm almost positive of it. The files only have their records a couple years before they moved here, but if we did more digging we could probably find more." Sam removed his laptop from the bag he had set on the chair beside him. "Let me get connected to the server and then we can find out."

        "Are we thinking this has something to do with a family history?" Dean asked as he continued to examine the victim reports. 

        "That's what I was thinking. Especially because the same thing happened like what, six years ago? If there's so many people connected over a long period of time then it has to be a family thing."

        Dean smirked, "Gotta love family things."

        Sam rolled his eyes and pulled up the federal database on his computer, "Would you read me off the last names of all the victims? Preferably the original last names of anyone who is married. I want to see if they have connections that way."

        Dean nodded and read off the names as Sam typed, "Thims, Potts - with two t's-, Horn, Fherrin - F, H, E, R, R, I, N-, Marks, and Gray - a y not e y." 

        Sam's eyes widened when the results scrolled onto the screen. "No way."

        "What is it?"

        "Those last names match six of the victims from the case you worked with Dad. And there was another round of ten deaths in Grennings, Montana ten years ago.  How do all of these families just happen to live in the same exact towns? They're practically begging to be killed." Sam stated.

        "If its a family thing, then maybe its a hunting thing." Dean thought.

        Sam cocked an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

        "Well, up until ten years ago these families weren't being killed. So, maybe, they were hunting whatever is killing them. Or - if we're still on the witch thing - they're covens and they all live together. Maybe they go wherever the supernatural activity draws them."

        Sam pushed a hand through his hair, "I don't know. We'll have to find the other four family members and talk to them. That theory could actually make a lot of sense."

        "Yeah, well, I have good ideas sometimes." Dean commented cheekily.

        "Anyways," Sam redirected. "I've got the four other last names. Pourings, Jennis, Harper, and Klide. Pourings is the only one in the group that is married." 

        "Huh."

        "What?"

        Dean shook his head. "It's just interesting that they would even risk getting married - if they really are hunting something."

        "I mean, they would have to carry on the family name somehow. And most of them are in their thirties and early forties, so that means they've have enough time to spread out their coming to this town so it wouldn't look suspicious."

        "Yeah, could you imagine ten strangers moving into your town at the exact same time? That wouldn't be suspicious at all."

        "Not at all," Sam retorted. "So, that means they knew there was something here. Whatever they were after. But, what prompted this sudden killing spree?"

        Dean closed the files, "Maybe the thing finally got strong enough and decided that enough was enough."

        "So who are the real monsters here?"

        "I don't know. But we need to find out."        

* * *

 

Unknown POV

        The town remained quiet as most of the residents were off at work or handling personal errands, and kids were at school, so there wasn't any shouting or loud conversation being made. Cars remained safely tucked away in garages or parking spaces and front doors stayed newly locked. All doors that is... except one. A thin individual crept into a royal blue, three floor house that sat just outside the town square. They closed the door behind them and made sure to pad quickly and quietly through the foyer and up the main flight of stairs. The only electric lighting came from the master bedroom. The figure stepped in front of the door and pushed it open. A man in his mid thirties sat on the bed tying his shoes as he prepared for a late start at work. His attention jerked to the door when it opened. 

        "Hello?" He called. 

        A second passed before a body entered the doorway. "Hello, Anthony Pourings."

        "Who are you?" Anthony snapped as he rose from the bed.

        "You mean, you don't recognize me? After everything we've been through? You'd think that after hunting a guy for ten years you would recognize his face."

        "I don't know what you think you're talking about. I'm not  _hunting_ anyone."

        The figure barked a laugh, "You're a riot. Not 'hunting' anyone. Please," In an instant the figure was inches behind Anthony, "It's in your blood." The figure reappeared back in the doorway, two silver daggers clenched in their fists. "Now, if you would hold still, this can get a little messy and I don't like to get my hands dirty."

        Anthony's heart rate accelerated when he saw the figure raise the daggers in their hands, "Please. Tell me who you are." He begged, despite the fact that he knew exactly who was standing in front of him. 

        "Anthony, Anthony, Anthony. Don't play  _dumb_  with me. Your family has been hunting me and my people for hundreds of thousands of years. You call us devil spawn and rip us to shreds without even a second thought. What I'm going to do to you is gentle compared to what you did to my parents and my siblings. Now you and the other three hunter  _scum_ that are living in this town are going to meet the same fate as your other friends. So, please, if you would be so kind not to scream." The figure fully extended their right arm and a white bolt of light shot from the tip of the dagger and wrapped itself around Anthony's mouth, muffling any sound that tried to come out. The figure smiled sickly and extended his left hand. "There, that is so much better." 


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying this so far. I will do my best to update at least once a week, but my school and work schedule take up a massive amount of time. And I'm really trying to keep the characters as true to themselves as possible, but definitely called me out if they're too OOC. This work is not beta read, so please don't be afraid to dish out grammar advice. Please read and comment! All your insight makes me a much better writer!

        “So, where are we going first?” Dean asked as they walked out of the police department.

        Sam raised his eyes from the paper and looked down the street as he said, “Kilder, Mirrim Kilder. She lives in an apartment just above the bank in the center of town. It’s a little ways down this road, so we aren’t far.” He looked at his brother.

        “Well,” Dean said as they started walking. “We’re definitely sticking with the FBI angle - especially because the there are so many connected cases. Chances are these four people know that their other family members are dead. I’d be blown out of my mind if they didn’t know."

        "Right." Sam paused. "But how do you just casually bring up that their family might be hunting down a super human being and now its grown so powerful it can kill them?" 

        The older Winchester shrugged, "We don't until we know for sure that's what this is."

        "We don't know for sure?"

        "We know sure enough, but you know how risky it is to assume things about a case. Maybe this is hunters killing creatures and we have it all backwards. We can't take that chance and you know it."

        Sam sighed and nodded, "You're right."

        Dean smirked, "I know."

        With a roll of his eyes, Sam asked, "So are we driving there or walking? Cause it's only just around the block and parking seems difficult to find."

        Dean thought for a second, "You think we'll need any heavy firepower?"

        The younger brother shook his head, "We shouldn't. Not yet at least."

        "Let's hike it there, then. No need to waste time finding parking when we're just a street away." Dean concluded.

        "You packing?" Sam asked.

        Dean patted the back of his waistband, "Always am. You?"

        Sam placed a hand against his left side, "Yup. Now come on. Her file says she only works night shifts at the county hospital, so we should be able to catch her now."

        Dean nodded and the two set off. The five minute walk passed without incident. The entire town was on such high alert they didn't even walk past another person. They turned into a back street behind the bank and knocked on the locked door that led up to the second floor apartment. 

        "Mirrim Kilder. Miss Kilder, if you're home we would really like to speak with you." Dean called as he rapped a fist against the door. A minute or two passed and he knocked his fist a little harder. "Mirrim Kilder."

        "Yes, yes, sorry. You caught me just getting out of the shower." A light voice called down the stairs. The door pulled inward to reveal a young woman standing before them in comfortable lounge attire. "I'm Mirrim Kilder. What can I help you two with?"

        Sam and Dean held up their FBI badges and introduced themselves as Special Agents Turner and Breaker. "We're just here to ask you a few questions." Sam said.

        She nodded, her wet hair falling in her face. "Of course. What can I help you with?"

        "Do you mind if we step inside?" Sam asked. "This is just a rather sensitive topic and I don't want to cause more panic for anyone that may overhear us." 

        "Oh, of course. Follow me." Mirrim waved over her shoulder and started up the stairs. "Please, excuse the mess. I didn't get any chance to clean up last night, because I got home so late."

        Dean shook his head as he pocketed his badge, "Don't worry about it at all. We understand."

        At the top of the stairs, Mirrim turned to the right and opened the door to her apartment. The three stepped just inside the doorway and Mirrim closed the door, "Is this about the deaths?"

        "It is," Dean confirmed. "Would you like to sit down?"

        "No, I'll be fine. So," She crossed her arms over her chest. "Why are you asking me? Do you think I have something to do with this?"

        "Not at all. We just have a couple questions about a case we believe to be connected to this one." Sam explained.

        "What do you mean?" She asked.

        Sam cleared his throat, "Well, Miss Kilder -" 

        "Mirrim." She interjected. 

        "Mirrim, a few years ago there was a very similar case in Grennings, Montana. All of the victims there shared the same last names as all of the victims here." Sam started.

        "And this has to do with me, how?" 

        Sam rested his hands on his hips, "Well, there were ten victims there and we have only had six so far. The last four victims from the previous case match four residents currently living in this town."

        Her shoulders dropped, "Let me guess. I'm one of them?"

        Dean nodded, "Yes." He glanced to his brother and then back to the woman before them. "We just wanted to see if you knew anything about the case from Montana."

        "I do."

        Sam cocked his head to the side, "You do?"        

        She nodded, "Yes. I know that a very distant cousin of mine was murdered. But, I didn't know him well enough to be very effected by it. I didn't even know him at all."

        "Don't you think it's a little strange that the same group of families ended up in the same town twice?" Dean asked. "And now they're being killed in the same exact way." 

        Mirrim shrugged, her cool demeanor betrayed by her unsteady eyes, "That is a little odd."

        Dean nodded, "It is, isn't it? And none of the families were born and raised in Grennings, Montana, just like none of the families were born or raised here. All of you moved to this town over the last five years. Is there any reason for that?"

        She shrugged again,  "Not really."

        Sam scrunched his eyebrows together, "So, ten people who all came from relatively large cities just felt inexplicably drawn to slow, boring small town life?"

        "Is that so hard to believe?" She asked, her voice growing tense.

        Now it was Sam's turn to shrug, "It's just a little strange that this has happened twice in the past decade and the trail went unnaturally cold in Montana."

        "Coincidences happen." She snapped.

        "They do." Dean admitted. "But this isn't a 'hey, I saw you two days in a row' coincidence. This is a you're going to be killed if we don't get more information out of you kind of coincidence."

        She tightened her arms across her chest, "I don't know anything. I swear."

        Dean nodded to his brother and returned his attention to Mirrim, "Okay. If you think of anything just come on down to the police station and you can probably find up there. Or the Captain will get in touch with us. Thank you for your time."

        "Of course." She muttered.

        Sam and Dean showed themselves out of the apartment. The moment they stepped outside of the main door, Sam turned to his older brother, "She's definitely hiding something."

        "Oh, for sure. I've never seen someone so desperate to hide something. And everyone else that we talk to is definitely going to act the same way. I'd be surprised if we found out anything from talking to these people." Dean replied. 

        "We should still talk to them. They may not explicitly tell us anything, but it's worth a shot." Sam said.

        "Right." Dean pushed a hand through his short hair. "So, where to next?"

        Sam checked his list, "Anthony Pourings. He's just outside the town square. I'm not sure if he'll be home, because he's usually at work by now, but we can swing by and see if he's taking the day off."

        "Lead the way Mr. GPS."

        Sam rolled his eyes and started off towards the direction of the house. It was a quick walk out of town, since everything was relatively close together. In a matter of minutes they came up to a dark blue house with a white trim. They began to walk up the front pathway towards the door when Dean shot a hand out over Sam's chest to stop him from walking. "Wait. The door's open. For a town on high alert, that seems pretty careless."

        Sam's eyes scanned the front of the house, his eyes stopping on a second floor window that was jut barely cracked open, "Shh, do you hear that?" 

        Dean directed his attention towards the same window and his eyes widened when he heard a soft cry, not much louder than a whimper strain through the quiet air. "Son of a bitch, come on." He broke into a sprint, followed closely by Sam. He threw the door the rest of the way open and jump up the stairs two at a time. He reached the bedroom in enough time to see a cloaked figure standing in the doorway with two carved silver knives poised in the air; violent white light streaming from them. Dean whipped his gun out of his back holster and raised it towards the figure. "Hey!" 

        The figure jerked towards Dean, face completely shadowed save striking violet eyes. Pearly jagged teeth were revealed as the figure presumably smiled. Dean was so struck by the movements and the demonic face that he couldn't get a shot off before the figure disappeared in a burst of light. 

        Sam stopped next to his brother and stared into the room. "The rest of the house was empty. Did you see who it was?"

        Dean shook his head, "Not completely. All I saw was a pair of purple eyes and grossly jagged teeth. And then it disappeared in a flash of white light."

        "That's quite the combination."

        "Yeah. It's definitely not Warlock or Witch, though. They don't have physical features like that."

        Sam strapped his gun back into his belt. "We should call Bobby when we get back to the motel to try and figure out what this is."

        Dean nodded and stepped further into the room to take a look at the body, "Yeah, this is definitely our monster." He pressed a hand against the man's cheeks and forehead. "Still warm."

        "Dead?"

        The older Winchester quickly checked the man's pulse. "Yeah. He must've gone just as we were coming inside."

        "Do we leave the body here for the police to find?" Sam asked.

        "Yeah. We need to go talk to the other two people on our list. And we need to press. Not getting answers won't do us any good anymore." Dean said as he stood from the body. "I hate that his kids are going to have to find him, but we need to get going now if we want any chance of keeping three more people alive."

        Sam nodded and the two fled from the house, making sure they weren't seen by any of the other townspeople. They made their way to the last two houses on their list, but both of the encounters were unsuccessful. Both Kaylee Jennings and Orna Harper didn't say much more than Mirrim did. The brothers begrudgingly made their way back to the station to pick up the impala. They made a point to avoid any of the officers, as they would probably alert the captain they were there and then they wouldn't have the time to talk to Bobby. 

        "That was the most unhelpful discussions we've have with people ever. I mean, they didn't give us anything. All we know now is that they're all hiding something." Sam muttered as they started off towards the motel. 

        Dean nodded. "They're definitely hiding something. The way they all stuttered and avoid answering our questions is as telling as anything. Talking to Bobby should get some things sorted out - especially if we figure out what could be doing this."

        Sam looked over at his brother, "Did you happen to see how the killing was being done?"

        "Yeah, that's what was the most interesting. They were using knives to enhance their magic. So, either their magic is relatively weak, it's a symbolic thing, or they can't use their magic without them." Dean explained. "And if we find that they can't use magic without the knives, then we can use that to our advantage. Get the weapons, stop the killing."

        "I'm not sure that would be the case. The killings are too exact and precise. There's no way this guy would have so much control if they depended on a magical weapon." Sam thought. "And did you say purple eyes?"

        "They were so striking. The thing's whole face was covered by those eyes. They were like nothing I've ever seen before."

        "Have we ever seen purple eyes before?"

        Dean shook his head, "Only with djinn, but this definitely isn't a djinn. And I've seen a couple Wiccan with flashing purple eyes, but nothing this serious. At this point I have absolutely no idea what you're dealing with."        

        Sam sighed, "Hopefully Bobby can help us figure something out."

        Dean nodded and they were silent the rest of the short ride to the motel. 

        Once they were settled back in the motel and Sam had his laptop propped open, Dean dialed Bobby's number. "Hey, Bobby, it's Dean. I'm gonna put you on speaker so Sam can hear you."

        "Hey, Bobby!" Sam called once Dean clicked the phone to speaker.

        "You idjits better have a good reason for botherin' me on my day off." Bobby grunted. 

        Dean grinned and shook his head at the classic Bobby response, "Don't worry, Bobby, we do." 

        "Shoot," Bobby said.

        Sam flipped open the case file and had it set out in front of him, "Okay, so we have three cases that are connected over a fifteen year period. Dad and Dean worked the second one six years ago, but we don't think anyone did any follow up of the case from fifteen years ago."

        "How are you sure they're all connected?" Bobby asked.     

        Sam cleared his throat, "Well, all the victims were kill in the exact same way."

        "So? That happens a lot."

        "We know that," Dean took over. "But there were ten victims in the first two cases. And the ten last names from the first case match the last names of all ten from the second case. And now all of the names are starting to line up again."

        Bobby was silent for a moment before he spoke, "How many are dead so far?"

        "Seven." Dean stated. "We found the seventh dead just a few minutes ago."

        "How are they dying?" The older Hunter asked.

        Sam checked the file just to make sure the information he was about to give was accurate, "Well, their ears are cut off, back is completely torn into, and their legs are ripped to shreds. The over kill is off the charts."

        "Does it look like it was done by hand or are you thinkin' magic?" Bobby asked.

        "It's definitely magic," Dean said. "But we've completely ruled out witches and wiccans, so we're pretty stumped."

        "Hmm," Bobby hummed. "Have you gotten any look at what's been doing the killing."

        "I only saw a part of it's face. Striking violet eyes and very jagged teeth." Dean said. "And they were using these knives as like magic amplifiers. I've never seen anything like it."

        "Shiiiit," Bobby drawled. 

        Sam cocked an eyebrow, "What is it?"

        "I've only heard about this once. And I only have two or three books about them. You boys are in for one shit show." Bobby commented.

        "How could what this is be any worse than what we normally hunt?" Dean asked.

        They heard a rustling of papers on the other end of the call, "Well, what you normally fight usually isn't over three thousand years old and half demon."

        Dean's face scrunched in confusion. "Half demon?"

        "How much lore do you two know about Fair Folk?" Bobby asked.

        Sam shook his head, "Bobby, Faeries aren't real. You know that."

        "No, Sam, we don't. The kiddie stories are all about how Fair Folk are nice and playful and fun loving, but the real lore is ugly. They're powerful and greedy and always hungry for power. And they're immortal." Bobby said. "Yes, there hasn't been a documented sighting in centuries, but there have been a few."

        "Why didn't we know about any of this?" Dean inquired.

        "Because nobody runs into them. Why should you worry about something that won't bother you? Anyways, Faeries are masters of disguise and deception. They're almost more powerful than full-blooded demons." 

        Dean sighed, "How could that be possible?"

        "Well," Bobby flipped through a book. "The one book I have says that they were all born... shit. I translated this word wrong. I thought it was telling me they were born from some of the first demons, but this says 'the original'."

        "What does that mean?" Sam asked.        

        Bobby huffed, "That means they gotta be born from Lucifer himself. That's the only way they could have this much power and that explains why people would be so afraid of them."

        "So, how could we be dealing with a Faery case? It sounds like their power would be nuclear. Why weren't we drawn here sooner?" Dean pressed. 

        "Probably because it wouldn't have a demonic signature. Yes, they're half demon, but whatever their second half is has a signature that cancels that." Bobby reasoned. 

        "Could they be half witch?" Sam asked. "I know it's probably not likely, but the way their magic so closely resembles that of witches... it could make sense."

        Bobby went silent for a moment, only the sound of rustling pages crackling over the phone. "You're never going to believe this."

        "Try us." Dean muttered.

        Lucifer may be their father, but the Goddess is their mother." Bobby spat out. "Magic that powerful could corrupt a whole race."

        Sam's eyes widened. "The Goddess? Like, the Wicca Goddess?"

        "Son of a bitch," Dean hissed. "Bobby, could you maybe check your books and your contacts and see if you can figure out how we stop this thing?"

        "Yea. I'll get you boys back if I find anything. Keep yourselves safe." Bobby finished before ending the call. 

        Sam looked over at his brother, "These families have probably been hunting the family for years. Maybe it was too weak before and is finally able to fight back?"

        Dean nodded, "That would make the most sense." He ran his hands over his face, "But what are we supposed to do now? We have no idea how to fight this thing. If they're descended from Lucifer and the Goddess, then we won't even know where to stay. Holy water probably won't work and there's nothing to exorcise. And we won't be able to kill them like we would a Witch or Wiccan."

        "We just need to figure out who it is first. Then we can go from there." Sam said. "And Bobby said Faeries mask themselves pretty heavily, so if we can catch it with it's guard down, then maybe..."

        "Yeah. Let's get back out there. We have a Faery to hunt."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this chapter! It's a little bit of a filler, but it's definitely important. The next chapter should hopefully come soon!

Winchester's POV

        Just as the brothers were heading out of the motel to return to the police station for a follow-up with Captain Orins, Dean's phone rang. He flipped the cell open and accepted the call. "Hello?" He said as he raised the device to his ear.

        "Agent Turner?" The police Captain's voice clipped over the phone. 

        "Yes."

        "I have something I need to discuss with you and I need you to come to the station right away." She explained.

        "What is it?" He asked.        

        "It's not something I will discuss with you over the phone. Now get to the station before I need to send a squad over to arrest you." She snapped.

        The line went dead and Dean slowly pocketed his phone. "Sam, we may have a problem."

        "Why?" 

        Dean pushed a hand through his hair, "That was Captain Orins. She said we need to get to the station immediately and that if we didn't she would sent a squad over to arrest us."

        "Do you think someone saw us come out of Anthony Pourings' house?" Sam asked. 

        The older shook his head, "No one should have. I'd bet anything that the Faery went to her. Captain Orins would trust whoever it is more than she would trust us. We have to talk to her, make sure she knows we aren't the threats here."

        They left the motel room again and ducked back into the impala. Once both doors were closed, Dean pushed the key into the ignition, reversed the car out of the parking lot, and drove off towards the station. If the Captain turned around and started suspecting them, then there was a chance she would bring actual FBI agents in on the case and they would dig a little too deeply into the Winchesters' lives. Then they would once again be one the run and they couldn't risk that with the massive Faery case they were working on. Letting the Faery go again would lead to dozens more deaths. 

        Dean parked in the small lot right beside the station and the two strode into the building, their pace quick and determined. Sam pushed through the door leading into Captain Orins's office, immediately catching her attention. "What did you want to see us about, Captain Orins?"

        She gestured to the two chairs before her desk, "Please, sit down. We have a lot to discuss."

        Sam shook his head, "We would prefer not to. We were in the middle of interviewing some potential witnesses and don't appreciate being called here without any kind of reason. So, if we could skip the pleasantries that would be ideal." The words came out a touch harsher than he had intended them to, but he didn't want to let her keep them here for longer than necessary.

        Orins cleared her throat and stood from her chair, so she could be a little more level with them. "First of all,  _Agent_ Beaker, I don't appreciate being spoken to in that tone. Not in my department. Second, what  _witnesses_ were you interviewing and why did a resident see you leaving Anthony Pourings house minutes before his husband came home and found him dead? Would you care to explain that to me?" She held up a hand before any of them could try and elude her question. "And if any of you try to walk out of here without telling me the truth then I will call the rest of the damn FBI and I will get my answers."

        "There is no need to be hasty-" Dean started.

        "And there is no need to talk down to me! I just don't want today to be the day that I have to arrest two FBI agents as suspects in a serial murder case." Orins snapped. "Now, you two seem pleasant enough and I'm sure that there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. So, please, explain it to me."

        Sam crossed his arms over his chest, "We didn't tell you about our witnesses, because we didn't know if they were or not. But, after we talked to them all we were sure that they were."

        "Where did you get the information to talk to them? We have been able to come up with anything that pointed us towards anyone." Orins said.

        "We had a feeling that this case was connected to one from six years ago and another from fifteen years ago. We didn't want to disclose this information, because we didn't want to be wrong." Sam explained. 

        Orins  rested her hands on her hips, "And how are they all connected?"

        "There were ten victims in the previous case and there will be ten now. There are ten families who have one member killed in each case. We went to talk to the remaining members to see if they knew anything about why the cases recurring." Sam continued.

        Her demeanor softened slightly. "Was Anthony Pourings alive when you went to speak to him?"

        Dean nodded and took over the explanation as he saw Sam was starting to grow a little tense, "Yes, he was. We spoke to him and asked him questions about the two family members who were killed, but he didn't know anything. He said they were never close enough to have a real relationship, or even know each other beyond a first and last name. So, we moved on. We didn't see anyone suspicious around, so we didn't think about it at all.The only thing that makes sense is that the killer was following us."

        Orins ran a hand over her tightly pulled back hair, "Do you have the files from these other cases?"

        Dean nodded again, "We do. They're back in our motel room. We don't like to travel with them, because we don't want them to be stolen and having all that sensitive information leaked would be really dangerous." 

        "Of course," Orins said. "Would you be able to bring the files by the next chance you get? Having all the information in one place would be very helpful."

        "We will," Dean agreed. 

        "You said Anthony's husband found him about home?" Sam asked. Orins nodded and Sam continued, "Could you give us his name? We just want to go over everything with him."

        "Yeah. I've been trying to get him to come into the station, but he won't leave their house." She sighed, "His name is Adrian."

        Sam raised an eyebrow, "The one who works at the diner?"

        Orins nodded, "That's the one. Good luck, you two. He's a bit hard to read sometimes and when he's upset... just be cautious."

        "We will, Captain," Sam said before the brothers turned from the room and headed back to the parking lot.

        

        A few minutes later, Dean parked the impala in front of the royal blue house from before. Dean pulled the key from the ignition and stepped out of the car, followed quickly by Sam. The two pulled their FBI credentials out of their pockets and flashed them to the officers that were stationed in front of the house as they walked up the front path and up to the dark brown door that was now firmly shut. Sam knocked a fist against the door and then stepped back as they waited for someone to come to the door. 

        "How do we know that he's even here?" Dean asked.

        "Orins said that he should be here. And his husband was just ripped apart. I don't think he's planning on going anywhere for a while." Sam said. "And I don't think they would have police guarding their house if Adrian wasn't home."

        Dean nodded, "I hope he's not going to be as difficult as Orins made him out to be. I don't want to pull teeth today."

        Sam opened to respond, but the front door opening cut him off. Adrian stood in the doorway still dressed in his diner t-shirt and faded blue jeans. Tears streaked through the blood that was wiped on his face and his black hair fell flat against his forehead. "Yes?"

        Sam and Dean flipped open their badges and Sam said, "I'm Special Agent Breaker and this is my partner Special Agent Turner with the FBI. We were just wondering if we could ask you a few questions about your husband's death."

        He shrugged, "Can't really say no can I?"

        "You could, but then more people could get hurt and I don't think any of us wants that." Sam said, trying to keep his voice from sounding too condescending.

        Adrian sighed and waved a shaking hand over his shoulder, "Yeah, I guess. Come on in. I'd offer you water or something, but I don't think my hands are going to let me carry the glasses." He showed them into the living room, anxiously wringing his hands, "Just go ahead and sit on the couch I'll... I'll take the chair across from you." Adrian slid into a brown armchair as the brothers sat on the couch, a small coffee table resting between the two of them. "So, what... what do you guys want to know?"

        Sam flipped open a notebook that he had taken out of his back pocket. "Where were you this morning around ten thirty?"

        "Still at the diner. My shift was just ending." Adrian answered.

        "And someone can confirm that?" Dean interjected.

        Adrian crossed his arms over his chest, "The manager and the woman who was coming to take over my shift. As well as all the customers who were there. Do you think I did this?"

        Sam shook his head, "No. Absolutely not. We just wanted to know if maybe you saw someone coming in or out of your house around that time?"

        "I didn't. But, from what I heard, you two were there minutes before I got home." Adrian sneered. "Want to tell me why you were leaving my house minutes before Anthony was found dead?"

        "We were just here to ask him a few questions about the other deaths." Sam explained.

        "Oh, so you could figure out if he was the right one to kill next? I don't know  _Agents_ your story seems a little too far fetched. Coincidences happen, but that's ridiculous." Adrian snapped, tears pooling in his dark green eyes. 

        Dean extended a hand, "Adrian, you need to relax. We had no intention of killing Anthony, nor did we want anyone to do so. We are just here to get a job done."

        Adrian's fists clenched, "We were going to adopt our first child. We were going to move out of this dingy town. We had plans." 

        Sam raised an eyebrow, "From what we've heard, Anthony moved here for his new job specifically. Why would you want to move away so soon?"

        "Because he found out he hated it. The people are rude and he doesn't - didn't," he choked. "Didn't have any chance of a promotion. We wanted something better than this."        

        Dean's eyes slid to the thick black bands tattooed onto Adrian's left forearm, "That's quite the tattoo. You get it done locally?"

        "No, I-" He stopped. "Why is that relevant? My tattoo artist didn't kill Anthony."

        "Just curious." Dean said.

        Adrian stood from his chair, "Well you can take your curiosity somewhere else. You can leave now. Come back to me when you have answers, or maybe some real fucking questions. But don't waste my time."

        "Adrian, please," Sam said as he rose from the couch. 

        "No! Get out of my house!" Adrian shouted, his face turning red with rage. 

        Dean shot to his feet and gripped Sam's shoulder, "Come on, we should get going. We have other stuff we need to do." He looked to Adrian. "Thank you, Mr. Pourings." Dean didn't miss the flinch when he called Adrian by his married title. "We'll be in touch." He turned from the room with Sam right at his heels. Once outside, Dean turned to Sam, "Well, he's a good actor. I'll give him that."

        Sam nodded, "He's definitely hiding something. And the way he wouldn't even call Anthony his husband. Even if he was in shock... I don't know. He seemed too together."

        "I know. If you can home to find someone ripped apart in your bedroom it wouldn't matter if you were married or not. You would be in absolute shock. Yeah his hands were shaking and he was stuttering a little, but there was no denial and no fear." Dean sucked in and released a heavy breath. "He may not be our killer, but he knows more than a few family secrets. And did you see how he reacted when I called him Mr. Pourings? He looked almost disgusted by it."

        "Yeah. And they wanted to move out of town? There's no way. Anthony wouldn't drop a top surgical position to go anywhere else - promotion or not." Sam agreed. "We need to look into him. But, we can't say anything about him to Orins. He's obviously a lifetime resident and telling her that we suspect the town's golden boy as being a liar and possibly a killer would definition put a damper on our relationship." He sunk into the passenger seat as Dean dropped next to him and eased the key into the ignition.  "Do we want to hit the diner and see what we can find out from the workers there or go back to the motel and dig up what we can on Adrian?"

        "As much as I love a good bit of research, I'll leave that to you." Dean said as he started back towards their motel. "I'll ask a few questions around the diner in the meantime."

        Sam rolled his eyes, "You just want to eat, don't you?"

        "Is that all you think I do?" Dean asked with a laugh. 

        "Not  _all_ , but definitely a majority of the time." Sam smirked. 

        "At least I'm not the one who gets up to a good web search." Dean quipped. 

        Sam's mouth hung open for a second, "That's so not true!" 

        Dean snorted, "Please, I've seen the way you look at a search engine. You've gotten more action with google than with a real human." 

        "Yeah, now that I think about it, splitting up sounds like a great idea."

        "Need a little alone time with that glorious search bar? Don't want me walking in and ruining all of your fun?"

        "Oh my god, Dean. I don't get off on google searches."

        Dean laughed, "Denying it only makes me believe you less." He pulled up in front of the motel. "Alright. Go and have fun. I expect results and not just sticky sheets when I come back."

        "And you come back with answers and not just greasy fingers." He stepped out of the impala. "Good luck."

        "You too."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter was really fun to write, hence why I got it done so quickly. I hope you all enjoy. Please leave comments, so I know how to make this the best possibly fic I can!

Sam's POV

        Sam clicked the door to the motel room open and stepped in, easing the door shut behind him. He tossed his bag onto the bed and slipped off his black dress shoes. He moved in front of the kitchenette and put on a pot of coffee. He knew it would taste like strong water, but he really needed some caffeine in his system. Once the water began dripping into the pot, he moved to the table in the center of the room. He realized he forgot his laptop in his bag and quickly went to retrieve it. With a sigh he slumped into one of the wooden chairs and opened the laptop before him. He opened his internet tab and typed in the web address that would connect him to the South Pike Police Department database. He effortlessly hacked through their juvenile firewalls and had full access in minutes. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment as he contemplated what the parameters of his first search should be. He decided that he first needed to understand who Adrian presently was before he started delving into the guy's past. He typed 'Adrian Pourings' into the personnel database search bar and hit -ENTER-. 

        A file immediately popped onto his screen. Sam double clicked on the file folder image and scanned the document that folded open onto the monitor:

                        **Name:** Adrian Tounerou-Pourings

                         **Age:** 30

                         **Birthdate:** September 15, 1977

                         **Place of Birth:** South Pike, Rhode Island

                         **Current Residency:** Martins Avenue, South Pike Rhode                                                Island

                         **Place of Work:** Brenda's Diner

                         **Family:** Maria Nathans [adoptive mother]

                                     Timothy Nathans [adoptive father]

                                     Birth parents classified

                         **Criminal History:** petty theft, public disturbances,                                                            instigation

                                                        - no one ever pressed charges, so                                                          he never did any time in                                                         juvenile detention. Any crime                                                                occurred before the age of                                                         eighteen.           

                                                                         **END FILE**

        "That's not strange," Sam thought to himself. "No medical history?" He shook his head, baffled by all of the information that was missing. It was common for biological parent information to be classified in an adoption case, but he found it strange that there wouldn't be any way to even access the redacted documents.

        He switched out of the police department tab and opened a standard search engine. He typed 'Adrian Tounerou' into the search bar and entered the search. Dozens of results filed onto the screen, most of them starting with 'Has South Pike's Golden Boy Gone Bad?'. Sam hovered his cursor over the first link and double clicked on it. Sam's eyes widened when he browsed through the bog post. He clicked out of the post and opened the next search result. He repeated this process over and over until his eyes wouldn't focus. He frantically yanked his phone from his pocket and dialed Bobby's number. 

        "Whaddya need now, Sam?" Bobby's voice crackled over the phone when he picked up the call. 

        Sam turned on the speaker feature and set the phone next to his laptop, "Okay, so I need details on a potential suspect, but a lot of the files are classified in the local database, but I'm thinking you might be able to find them in the FBI base."

        "I can see what I can do. What's the guys name?" Bobby asked, the sound of a computer booting up in the background. 

        "Adrian Tounerou. A-D-R-I-A-N T-O-U-N-E-R-O-U." Sam spelled. 

        Bobby clacked away at the keys for a moment, then asked, "He lives in South Pike, Rhode Island?"

        "That's the one."

        "What do you need to know about him?"

        "Can you see if you can declassify the records about his birth parents? I think that figuring out who they are could be the key to figuring out who this guy is."

        "Do you think he could be your Faery?"

        Sam shook his head, "Dean and I don't know for sure, but we know that he's connected to this somehow. We think he knows who the Faery is. When we questioned him he wasn't afraid of talking about his husband's death, but he freaked when Dean started asking him personal questions."        

        "Is Dean off talking to people who know him?"

        "Yeah. He's talking to Adrian's coworkers and his boss."

        Bobby was silent for a moment, but his pause was short lived, "Alright, I've got the file about his parents opened."

        Sam's interest immediately peaked, "What does it say about them?"     

        "Nothing."

        "Nothing?"

        "There's not squat about them in this file. There isn't even an adoption record."

        Sam's jaw dropped, "What?"

        "According to this file he was never processed in the foster care system. It's like he was just picked up right off the streets."

        "I guess a small town would never really question something like that," Sam reasoned. "All they would care is that a kid was safely picked up off the streets."

        "This kid has gotten himself in quite a bit of trouble. I can't believe no one pressed any charges."

        Sam nodded, "I know. If we're still running with the 'small town protects their own' theory, then they could have just wanted to keep him out of juvie so that he wouldn't turn even worse."

        "Some of this goes beyond small town charity. I mean, he started fights with the football team and with business owners. He's sent kids to the hospital." Bobby said. "Wait. Hold on, there's something else here."

        "What is it?"

        "Another set of files. There's Adrian Tearin and Adrian Thonerew."

        "Bobby, look at the parental files of all those people. If they were all uncharacteristically adopted then we could be looking at the same person. He could be our Faery."

        Several clicks sounded through the speaker for a few minutes until Bobby finally broke the silence, "Sam, I think you guys found your Faery."

        "Were all of them -"

        "Yes. None of them have adoption papers and all of them grew up in the same towns as the other murders. All of their aggressive behavior was written off as regular teen angst and nothing was ever done about it." 

        Sam pushed a hand through his hair, disbelief written on his face, "Okay, thanks Bobby. I need to go and find Dean. The Faery could be on to us."

        "Be safe, Sam. You still don't fully know what you're dealing with."

        "Don't worry, Bobby. We'll be fine. And we'll let you know if we figure anything out." He ended the call and shut his laptop. He stood from the chair and went to put his shoes back on, but a movement caught his eye. The motel door creaked open, an eerie yellow light from the hallway casting unnatural shadows onto the floor. "Hello? Dean is that you?"

        "Dean is that you?" A voice mocked back at him. 

        Sam spun, trying to locate where the voice came from. "Who are you?"

        "I thought you were supposed to be the smart one." The voice smirked. 

        "Show yourself!"

        "No reason for you to be so hostile." The voice cooed. "You know," It continued. "If I'm being honest, I didn't expect for you to catch up to me this fast. The Winchesters sure are infamous for tracking down their prey quickly, but this seemed unnaturally quick of you. And I must work on my acting skills when I move on to my next town. I thought I had you both fooled."

        "Adrian-"

        "Ah yes, you think you hold all the power cause you know my name. How rich that must make you feel. Does it make you feel good, Samuel?"

        "Don't call me that."

        The voice - Adrian - scoffed, "If you get to call me by my name then why don't I get to call you by yours? That certainly doesn't make any sense."        

        "You're a monster. You don't deserve it." Sam sneered. 

        "A monster?" A shadowy figure finally stepped from the shadowy corner of the room right next to the twin beds. "I'm not a monster."

        "You kill people just for the fun of it." 

        "For fun? You think I do this because I enjoy it?" Adrian sneered. "I've never once  _enjoyed_  what I do. I do it because I have to. If I don't then I will never be free."

        "There are other options."

        Adrian barked a laugh, jagged teeth flashing in the light, "Other options. Right. What other options do I have? Hunters could never come around to seeing me as any more than someone with a gross lust for blood."

        "That's not true."

        "If that's not true then why is your hand wrapped around that mundane killing weapon?"

        Sam's fingers clenched around the handle of his gun. Just as he went to pull it from the holster he felt arms wrap around his shoulders. He saw spindly fingers clasped around his chest and dark lines circling a left forearm. Sam's heart began to race and his breathing became frantic, "What do you want?"

        "I want for you two release your grip on that gun, so I can have a chance to explain things to you. How does that sound?" Adrian hissed in his ear.

        "You don't get that chance. You've kill thirty people."

        Adrian snorted, "Thirty. I'm almost insulted."

        "More than that?"

        "Much." He grinned. "Now, we can either do this willingly or I'm going to have to forcibly restrain you and act like the  _monster_ you think I am."

        "I'm not going to go anywhere with you." 

        "Just the answer I didn't want." A circle of light began to open before the two of them. "Now, I hope you have a strong stomach, because travelling through portals can be a bit rough on the stomach for first timers."

        Sam grit his teeth and tried fighting against the Faery, "Stop it! You can't take me anywhere!"

        "I can do whatever I please." Adrian whispered as he pushed the both of them through the portal.

        The brilliant light washed over Sam and he felt his eyes roll into the back of his skull.

 

 

        What felt like eternities later, Sam awoke. His eyes cracked open and he instantly recognized the heavy feeling of chains clamped around his wrists and ankles, securing him to a metal chair. He scanned the cement room around him, but he didn't recognize anything about it. He had no idea where he could be. 

        "Hello?" He called. "Adrian?"

        "Ah, and he awakens." Adrian came from somewhere behind Sam. He figured there must have to be a door or staircase behind him, but the back of the chair was too high for him to see around. 

        "What do you want from me?" Sam asked.

        "Oh, Sam, you know exactly what I want from you."

        "You want to kill anyone who tries to get in your way."

        "Wrong!" Adrian shouted as he shot in front of Sam. The Winchester immediately recoiled at what stood behind him. "Oh, you don't like this? You never seen an un-glamoured Faery before?" He smirked. "Oh wait, you didn't even know we existed until now."

        Sam remained transfixed by Adrian's swirling purple eyes. "So, you don't want to kill me. What do you want?"

        "I want you to stop hunting me and the last few of my kind." Adrian said, brushing a strand of black hair behind his sharply pointed left ear. "You have no idea what we have been through. There is no reason for us to be hunted by you."

        "Why do you think that?" Sam asked. 

        "Don't try to talk to me like I am a child, Sam!" Adrian shouted. "I have lived a thousand lives over. I have lived through every human tragedy and you cannot even try to understand that! Every human I have ever met has tried to drive a knife through me."

        "You're half demon, what did you expect?"

        "Just because Lucifer's blood runs in my veins doesn't mean I want to be anything like that blood sucking son of a bitch. I tend to take more after the motherly blood in my body."

        "The Goddess."

        "Bless her."

        "I don't think she would like that you've gone on such a killing spree." Sam snapped.

        "I think she would be fine with it knowing that I am trying to balance the world. Trying to kill people who killed me. Who killed my family. Who killed my own flesh and blood."

        "What do you mean?"

        "All those people who are dead? They've killed Faeries. And they've all descended from the same bastards who killed my parents. Who ripped my siblings apart. My twin sister had her wings ripped from her body right in front of me. I almost drowned in their blood. I was seconds from dying." He held up his left arm, "These tattoos. Everyone I loved who died."

        "Wings? I didn't think you would actually have wings."

        Adrian snorted, "Then how do you think we would fly?"

        "I don't know. I just didn't think wings." Sam shook his head. "Can I -?"

        "See them? I don't know if you deserve to see them. You still think I'm a monster."

        "Adrian, this is ridiculous. Just let me go."

        "Why?" Adrian asked. "So you can just kill me?" He laughed and pushed his hands through his hair. "Oh wait. You don't know how. Hm, what an interesting thought. I really could let you out and just watch you squirm as you shoot me and nothing seems to happen."

        Sam ground his teeth, "Dean will come looking for me."

        "He can look, but he won't find you. After all, I'm not even sure we're in America anymore."

        Sam's eyes went wide. "What?"          

        "Have fun, Sam. I might even bring a couple graphic slides for reference when I come back." He walked from the room. "Sweet dreams."

        "Adrian!" Sam screamed. "Let me go! Adrian!"


	6. Chapter 6

Dean's POV

        Dean walked out of the diner, disgruntled and exhausted. No one had told him anything helpful. They all said 'Oh, Adrian? He's the best we love him. He works so hard and makes sure that everyone is always taken care of and helpful'. No one had even set Dean's suspicious meter off. He felt like he should be reassured after everyone gave such rave reviews about Adrian, but it only unsettled him more. He felt like there was no reason for a guy to be so well liked. It was almost unnecessary. And it definitely set Dean off. Adrian would have absolutely everything to hide, so he would never want anyone to dislike him and risk them finding out who he really was...

        Dean pulled out the keys to Baby and unlocked the driver's side door. He slid into the seat and closed the door behind him with a definitive sigh. He sat still for a moment and set to collect his thoughts. He pushed his fingers through his hair and then curled his hands around the steering wheel. "Hopefully Sam found something," He muttered after a minute of silence. He released the wheel from his grasp and maneuvered his hand into his pants pocket to pull out his phone. He flipped it open and held down the number one - Sammy's place in his speed dial. A second later Dean had the ringing phone pressed against his ear. "Come on, Sammy," He said when the call went to voicemail and he dialed the number again. Voicemail again. "Maybe he's just in the middle of something," He reasoned before dialing for a third time. When he was sent to voicemail again he began to panic. "That isn't like Sam." He quickly jabbed the key into the ignition and turned it. He jerked the gear into drive and tore off from the dinner parking lot and towards the motel. 

        Panic really began to set in when he arrived at the motel. The door was ajar and a lamp was knocked off the bedside table; the lightbulb shattered on the ground. Sam's laptop sat open on the small kitchen table and his phone was lying on the ground beside the chair. Dean crouched and picked up the phone, surprise on his face when he saw his number dialed on the screen. "Damnit, Sam." He scrolled through Sam's recent contacts and saw that Bobby was the last person Sam called. Dean quickly hit "re-dial" and Bobby picked up the other end after one ring.

        "What d'ya want now, Sam?" Bobby grunted. 

        "It's not Sam, Bobby." Dean sighed. 

        "Dean? What are ya doin' on Sam's phone?" Bobby asked, confusion in his voice. 

        Dean ran his free hand over his face, "Bobby, Sam is gone. He's not in the motel room and it looks like someone broke in. Did he say anything to you about where he might be going or who he might be seeing?"

        Dean could almost hear Bobby shake his head, "No. I helped him figure some stuff out and then he hung up."

        "What'd you guys figure out?" Dean asked. "He could have gone off to follow a lead and someone just happened to ransack the room."

        "Shiiit," Bobby groaned. "He figured out who the Faery is. So either the Faery got him or he's out huntin' him down."

        "Who is it?"

        "I think he figured it was some guy named Adrian? Does that ring a bell?"

        "Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. "Thanks, Bobby. I've got to go."

        "Keep me posted."

        "Will do." Dean hung up the call and slammed the phone down on the table. "Damnit!" He stormed from the room and got back into the impala. He tored off towards the police department and hastily parked. He entered the building and blew by the front desk. "Captain Orins! We need to talk."

        The woman stepped from her office and cocked an eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

        "My partner is missing and I think it has everything to do with our case." Dean said as he ushered her back into her office so they could speak in private. 

        "Do you have a lead on the case?" She asked, pulling the door shut behind her. 

        Dean nodded, "We do, but I don't think you're going to like it."

        "If it gets your partner back and a killer off the streets then I'm willing to go for anything." Orins said

        Dean crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, "We think it's Adrian Tounerou-Pourings."

        Her eyes widened, "Why do you think that?"

        "Because he's connected to the two other cases. He was present in both locations and we have reason to believe that he is at large and very dangerous." Dean quickly explained - trying to be as thourough as possible without revealing Adrian's supernatural identity.

        Must to Dean's disbelief, she released a heavy breath as though a weight had just been lifted off her shoulders. "Oh, thank God you two noticed it two."

        "What do you mean?"

        "There's something... not normal about him. He's always known a little too much and people would kill each other to be in his good graces." Orins said. She stepped closed to Dean and lowered her voice, "And there's something else that you should know about him."

        "What's that?"

        "Well, it was a few years ago when I was just starting out on the force. I wouldn't get him out of a parking violation and he bared his teeth at me like he was an animal and his teeth were all jagged and... animal like. And his eyes just flashed this purple. I thought that maybe he was wearing contacts or something, but in a second they were back to green. I couldn't say anything because he hadn't technically done anything wrong, but it really put me on edge around him. I mean, is there any normal way to react to that?"

        Dean shook his head, "There's not." He sighed and looked Orins in the eye, "There's something else that I need to tell you about him. It might sound absolutely crazy, so I need you to just go with me on this. Okay?"

        She hesitantly nodded, "Okay?"

        "Adrian is a Faery," Dean spat out before he could think about the implications of the announcement.

        Orins snorted, "Oh, come on, Agent. You can't really believe in all that supernatural nonsense."

        "Is there any other way to explain Adrian's eyes and... fangs?" Dean asked. 

        "What proof do you have?" 

        "None, really. All we have is that he is twenty-seven years old in every file we have for him - even though all three cases happened over a span of fifteen years."

        "So, he's good at forging documents?" Orins asked, still not convinced.

        "No, Captain," Dean said through gritted teeth, trying to keep himself from snapping at her. "I just need you to trust me. Adrian has my partner and I don't know what he is capable of. So, if you would like to help me , please do. Otherwise you're going to have another dead body on your hands. And this body will stir up more dust than any of the previous victims."

        Orins took a step back, shock contorting her features, "Okay. Okay, I'll help you. What do you need from me?"

        "A property list. I need to know if there are any places under his name that could hold a person captive..."

* * *

 

Sam's POV

        Sam sat in silence for hours. The dripping of water in one of the room's corner would have driven an ordinary person mad ten times over. All Sam wanted was to cover his ears and sleep, but he couldn't find it within himself to relax. His fingers shook and he could still feel panicked adrenaline coursing through his veins. He didn't understand why his body continued to betray the calm his mind was feeling. Mentally, Sam knew that he could outsmart Adrian, but he had no idea if he could take him physically.

        Adrian's voice finally floating down the stairs behind him, "There's no reason to be so scared, Sam. I dont have any intention of hurting you. I want to convince you that I'm the good guy. Hurting you will only hurt me."

        "Nothing you could do could convince me that we are on the same side." Sam growled.

        "Same side?" Adrian scoffed. "I wouldn't go that far. I don't hunt monsters purely because they exist. You kill because you can, I kill because I have to."

        Sam shook his head, his eyes following Adrian's movements, "I don't kill because I want to. I kill the monsters that are hurting other people."

        "Whatever you say, Sam. I just don't know how inclined I am to believe you. You are - or  _were_  - hunting me after all." Adrian stopped when he was fully in front of Sam. "I'll admit, I've done some things that I'm not proud of, but those people. They needed to be stopped. They're dead out of absolute necessity."

        "Why?"

        "How many times am I going to have to explain it to you?" Adrian sneered. 

        "You ripped those people to shreds! What could they have done to deserve that?" Sam shouted, his arms straining against the metal cuffs around his wrists. 

        Adrian moved forward and wrapped his hands around Sam's wrists, pressing his face inches from Sam, "Do you not know how revenge works?" 

        Sam pulled away as much as his could, "Of course I do."

        The Faery moved forward as Sam moved away, "Then you'll understand it when I say that karma's a bitch."

        Sam shook his head, "Those people couldn't have done that to you. They're innocent."

        " _Oh, they're innocent,"_ Adrian mockingly whined. "It's called  _acting!"_  He barked, spit flying in Sam's face. "No matter where I go they follow me. They ripped  _my_ family to shreds. They keep pieces of their wings as trophies! I've seen some of them wearing Faery teeth as necklaces! How would you feel if someone was wearing a piece of your death brother around their neck?"

        "I... I..."

        "You would be pretty damn angry!" Adrian shouted. He pushed Sam away from him, the metal chair screeching against the ground as it flew back several feet. "They've taken everything from me and now it is my turn to stand up to them! Why should they get to do whatever they want while I complacently sit by!"

        "There has to be a different way-"

        "No! As soon as someone has taken everything from you there is no other way! They have physically taken pieces from me! I can't look in the mirror without being reminded of what  _monsters_ they are! How can  _I_ hurt these people? What gives _them_  the right?"

        "They're trying to protect people." Sam countered. 

        "Protect people from what?" Adrian asked, his voice breaking. "No Faery in history has every killed a human unprompted. The only times were out of self defense. Humans have been hunting us for thousands of years. And for what? Trophies?"

        Sam's eyes widened, "They... what? Why would they hunt you for trophies?"

        "The same reasons why they hunt elephants. They say its to "protect humans" and to "rid the world of evil", but all they want is power and money. Do you want to know how much Faery wings go for on the black market?"

        "How much?"

        "Millions of dollars. My twin sister's were sold for ten million dollars. My younger brother's for four million. My parents were sold for seven million each. Watching that blood money exchange hands rips a person apart."

        Sam sighed. He didn't want to sympathize with Adrian, but he was making it hard not to. "Adrian..."

        "Do you want to see what they've done to me?" Adrian asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Maybe that'll help."

        "You don't have to. I believe you."

        "Do you?" Adrian hissed. "Cause I don't think you do."

        "Please -"

        Adrian gripped his shirt by the hem and quickly pulled it off. Sam forced his jaw not to drop at what he saw. Scars littered Adrian's torso. A chunk of flesh was missing from his right hip and burn scars warped his left shoulder. Sam's eyes were drawn to the black tattoos that wrapped around his sides. "Are those?" He asked. Adrian nodded and rolled his shoulders back. The tattoos started to peel themselves away from his skin, the outlines filling with a crystalline film. Adrian turned around and Sam felt like vomiting at the sight. Adrian's wings were torn to shreds, the ends frayed like they had gone through a shredder. "My god..."

        "Are you still going to tell me I should try to talk it out?" Adrian muttered. 

        Sam shuddered at the brokenness of Adrian's voice. "No one shoulder have to go through that..." Adrian turned, his face void of glamour. His eyes were a vibrant violet and his teeth were jagged. Something that was missing were the pointed ears Sam was expecting. "Your ears. What happened?"

        Adrian's hands went to touch the jagged tops of his ears, "A group of boys cut them off when I was young... they held me down and took a blunt knife to them... I was only a hundred which is so young for a Faery... I came home sobbing. I can't... I can't heard out of my left ear." He sighed and dropped his hands. "Now do you see why I can't let them go? They do this to every Faery they encounter. These hunters are ruthless. They don't feel anything. It's all about how much pain they can inflict while still getting what they want. People have been trying to hack off my wings for three thousand years. What if someone was trying to cut off your legs since the day you were born?"

        "Adrian, let me out of here. Let me go talk to my brother. We can help you figure something out. We can figure out a different option. We have influence. We can stop the Faery hunting."

        Adrian's eyes softened slightly. "You could do that?"

        "If what you're telling us is true then we can. If none of you are hurting people then none of you should be hunted. That's not how our world works."

        "I can get you in contact with other Faery. They can confirm everything I've said to you. I can even give you my memories. Please. I just can't let this continue." Adrian pleaded. 

       "Of course. Now please, I just need to find my brother."

        Adrian nodded and quickly moved to unlocked the cuffs around Sam's wrists and ankles. He had just reached the younger Winchester when a voice shouted, "Get away from my brother!" Shortly followed by a gunshot. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than normal, but I wanted to knock off a chapter before I head into a busy week. Enjoy!

Third POV

        Adrian dropped to the ground, thick golden-red blood spurting from the gun shot wound in his stomach. His hands pressed to the wound and curled into a fetal position to try and slow the blood loss. 

        "Dean, what did you do?" Sam shouted as he desperately tried and failed to remove himself from the chair. "He wasn't going to hurt me!"

        Dean stood before his brother and started picking the locks to the restraints, "Sam, he had you down here strapped into a metal chair. I think that's reason enough to shoot any monster. Or has our policy changed?"

        "He isn't like that. He isn't that kind of monster!" Sam snapped. "He was just going to let me go so that we could come and find you."

        Captain Orins descended the stairs and a hand flew to her mouth when she saw the familiar man lying shirtless in a pool of gold tinted blood with wings protruding from his back, "My god... is that? Agent, this can't be real." She reholstered he gun. "And you shot him. Are you going to save him?"

        Dean shook his head, "No."

        "Yes!" Sam instantly barked. "Dean if you would have heard what he said then you wouldn't want to kill him. There's no reason for us to!"

        Orins took one more look at the body and bolted back up the stairs, gagging as though she was about to vomit. Dean finished picking the cuff locks and Sam shot out of the chair. He knelt beside Adrian and rolled the Faery onto his back. Sam stripped his outer jacket off and pressed it against Adrian's stomach. 

        "Dean, I don't have any time to explain it to you now. But, we need to help him." Sam said over his shoulder. "He's never killed anyone. None of the Faeries have."

        Dean raised an eyebrow, "I saw him kill someone. Rip him to shreds!"

        Sam shook his head, "He never killed someone that he didn't have to."

        Adrian groaned and suddenly a searing pain ripped through Sam and Dean's head. The brothers collapsed to the ground and vivid memories instantly exploded behind their eyelids.

* * *

 

         _"Freak!" A boy's voice screeched. "You're nothing more than a bloody freak come to kill us all!"_

_Six teenaged boys had Adrian pinned to the ground, their dirty fingernails digging into his skin. The leader banged Adrian's head against the ground to keep his dazed and unable to fight back. Then he pulled a shard of glass from a small satchel around his waist and dangling it in front of Adrian's foggy eyes, "Maybe if you don't look like a freak then you won't act like one." He leaned down and pressed the shard against the tip of Adrian's left ear and began sawing._

_Back and forth._

_Back and forth._

_The more Adrian screamed the harder the boy pressed._

_"Get him!"_

_"Rip it's ears off!"_

_"Just kill the freak!"_

_The jeers from the other boys pierced the night air and forced tears from Adrian's eyes._

_Once he was satisfied the leader moved the knife from the left ear to the right and repeated the process. He tossed the shard from his hand once he was finished and cupped his hand beneath on of the gushing wounds. He smeared the discolored blood over Adrian's face with a sick laugh. "Get me a rock!" He shouted._

_A boy handed their leader a fist sized rock. The leader lifted it abover his head with every intention of smashing it down on Adrian's teeth when three large figures slammed to the ground around them. The boys instantly regonized the glow of Faery wings and scattered in all directions - not wanting to be victims of a Faery who could defend themselves._

_Two of the Faery moved to make sure that no one disturbed them and the third fell to their knees beside Adrian. "Oh, my son, why could I ever let this happen to you? What did you ever do to deserve this?"_

* * *

        For a moment Sam and Dean were released from the pain and fear of the memory, but a second one tore into their minds a second after.

* * *

        

         _An open arena, colosseum like in nature, was filled to capacity with humans. The people were cheering and shouting, calling for the event to begin. The jeers were instantly silenced when a man stepped onto a wooden platform in the middle of the arena and raised a hand, "Let the bidding begin!" He shouted. Two more men entered, dragging a woman between the two of them. They forced the woman onto the platform and forced her to her knees. The stretched her arms between two posts so that her back was fully exposed to the crowd. Magnificent wings stretched outwards between her shoulder blades and the crowd cheered in excitement. "Do I hear five thousands dollars?" The auctioneers voice boomed over the roaring crowd._

_"Five thousand!"_

_"Fifty-five hundred!"_

_"Six thousands!"_

_"Seven!"_

_"'Senty-five hundred!"_

_"Thirty thousand!"_

_The amounts continued until a final voice screamed out, "Ten million dollars!" The crowd momentarily went silent, but a roar of cheers erupted when the auctioneer shouted that the wings would go for ten million dollars._

_"Get the wings off!" The auctioneer shouted._

_A large woman moved forward and drew a saw from a chest on the stage. She gripped one of the wings and began to saw._

* * *

        Sam ripped himself from the memory, tears streaking down his cheeks. He had never experienced someone else's memory so strongly. His breathing was heavy and he pressed his palms against the side of his head, trying to block the screams coming from his brother. He looked to his left and saw Adrian seizing beside him, blood pooling onto the ground around him. Sam forced himself to his knees and crawled towards the Faery. He picked Adrian's shirt up from the floor and pressed it against the gaping wound. "Christ, what am I supposed to do?" He muttered with a desperate glance over to his brother. 

        "Take the... take the... b-b-bullet out..." Adrian wheezed. "I'm healing, b-b-b-but you need... to take... to take it out..."

        Sam froze for a moment. He wasn't surgically inclined and he didn't want to risk making things worse, "I can't. I'll kill you."

        "I'm... I'm gonna die if you don't get this bullet out." Adrian ground out, his teeth clenched together. "The knife if your boot. Use it."

        Sam's hand flew to his shoe. He didn't realize Adrian had left the knife there. He gripped the small blade and pulled the shirt away from Adrian's stomach, "This is gonna hurt." He peered at the wound, "A lot of the skin has already started to knit together, so I'm gonna have to cut through it."

        "Goddess," Adrian groaned. "Just do it."

        Sam took a shaky breath, trying to block out the pained moans from Adrian and the heaving breaths from Dean. He stilled his shaking hand as much as he could before pressing it against the Faery's stomach. He applied pressure and forced himself to ignore Adrian's scream. Once the wound was completely reopened, Sam blanked again. His fingers would only push the bullet further into the muscle. Sam looked up to see that Dean had regained control of his own mind and would be able to help him. "Dean! Come here and hold the wound open for me!" When Dean didn't move, Sam shouted again. "Come on! We don't have time for this."

        Dean released a heavy breath and moved to kneel on the opposite side of Adrian. Without a word he pressed his palms on either side of the bullet hole and applied enough pressure to keep the skin pulled apart. "Go for it." He grunted. 

        Sam set the knife down and pushed his left index finger into the hole. He immediately felt the slick metal bullet and started to maneuver his finger beneath the bullet. Once he had his finger hooked beneath the metal, he slowly started to pull it out. His heart started to pound even louder as the bullet started to snag on all the torn muscle and tissue around it. He grimaced when Adrian cried out and jerked beneath him, "Damnit, Dean hold him still!"

        "I'm doing the best I can!" Dean snapped. 

        "Hey, I didn't tell you to shoot him." Sam hissed back. 

        "And I didn't tell you to cozy up to a fucking Faery."

        "It's not my fault he was almost the victim of a mass genocide."

        "I didn't ask to be a part of stopping it."

        "Ugh, shut up." Adrian groaned. "You two can argue about me later."

        Sam shot Dean a pointed look and finally ripped the bullet out of the would. "Got it."

        "Finally," The Faery sighed. 

        Dean stood and took a few steps back, "I need to go. I can't be a part of this."

        Sam rose to his feet and leveled his gaze on Dean, "Dean, you already are a part of this. You can't just back out."

        The older Winchester shook his head, "No, Sam. All I saw were a bunch of memories. Memories that could be fake. He could be lying straight through his teeth."

        "Fake memories don't feel that real, Dean."

        Dean snorted, "Yeah? Well then I felt him enjoying killing all of those people. I felt him reveling in it. Explain that to me."

        Sam's gaze flashed from Adrian to Dean, "I don't..."

        Adrian pulled himself to his feet with a grunt, arm wrapped around him middle, "Dean, if you had the chance to wring the demon's neck that killed your mother, how would you feel?"

        Dean's jaw dropped, "How do you know about that?"

        "Please. You don't think I wouldn't keep track of two of the most effective hunters? I've learned my lessons." He sighed. "Now. How would you feel?"

        Dean eyed Adrian, "I don't know, but I don't think I would enjoy it."

        Adrian smirked, "Oh, I think you would. That kind of revenge doesn't leave you feeling nothing. You're angry and heated and you know that you're finally hurting someone the way they hurt you. Fulfilling that drive, that need for revenge, it's one of the most satisfying feelings you might ever experience."

        "Who were you killing? In the memory?" Dean asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

        "The people who auctioned the wings off my family. Killing them made me feel more powerful than I ever have before." Adrian explained. 

        "And you're about to have all that power stripped away. Again." A cheeky voice called down the stairs.

        Sam's eyes widened when he saw who was descending the stairs, "Mirrim?"

        "The one and only," She smirked and raised a rifle. "Now, thanks for weakening him, but I'm gonna need you to step back. This ones mine."


	8. Chapter Eight

Third POV                                                                                                                                                                           

        "Mirrim, put the weapon down." Dean said. "You don't need to do this."

        Mirrim scoffed and tightened her hands around the rifle, "I don't think you know what you're talking about,  _Agent."_ She smirked, "Or should I say, Dean Winchester. You two were dumb to get involved in this. Did you think other hunters wouldn't recognize you?"

        Dean shook his head, "Just let us take Adrian. There's no reason for anyone to die here."

        "You know I'm not going to let you walk out of here with the Faery. The only way it leaves is with a bullet in it's head. So, take a step back. I don't want to kill perfectly good hunters." 

        "Mirrim, think about what you're going to do." Dean said, trying to talk her down from killing Adrian. 

        She shook her head. "I've made up my mind. That thing has killed too many people. It's out of chances."

        Sam rose from his crouched position, "Let him show you what he showed us. He's not a killer." 

        Mirrim laughed, "Right. Tell that to all the dead bodies that Orins has in her morgue!" Sam moved to take a step towards her, but when she turned the gun on him he froze. "Stay where you are, Winchester! You're being tricked."

        "Mirrim!" She jerked her head to see that Dean had pulled a gun on her. "Put your gun down!"

        "I don't want to kill any hunters, Dean!" She shouted, her weapon still trained on Sam.

        "Then put your gun down."

        "I can't do that!" She called.         

        "Yes you can. Just let us talk to you!" Dean responded, his fingers tightening around the gun. 

        "We're past 'just talking'. That thing killed my parents." Mirrim sneered. 

        "And you killed mine," Adrian growled, finally rising to his feet. 

        "Sit down, fairy. You need to wait your turn now." Mirrim said. 

        Adrian raised a closed fist, "You wanna drop that gun, Mirrim. This doesn't need to get ugly." 

        She grinned, "Oh, it's too late for that." 

        Mirrim fired her weapon towards Sam. 

        Dean fired at Mirrim. 

        Adrian opened a portal.

        He moved to pull Dean through the portal and heard Sam cry and out and saw him fall to the ground. He pushed Dean through the portal and fell to his knees beside Sam. The round fired at him must have been some type of buckshot, because there were multiple entry wounds along Sam's right side. Adrian pulled Sam through the portal. He looked back once more to see Mirrim lying motionless on the stairs before he closed the portal. 

        "Where are we?" Dean asked. 

        "My safe house a mile out of town." Adrian said. "Now, take Sam and follow me."

        "What are you gonna do to help him?"

        "I need to find out if that shot is poisoned. If it's not then I can take all the pellets out. If it is then things get a little trickier."

        "Will he be able to survive the poison?"

        Adrian sighed and pushed a small couch towards a wall to clear the living room floor. "He should be able to. I don't think it would have been poisoned, though. That shot would've killed me without any poison."

        Dean laid Sam down on the spot that Adrian had indicated, "Why would it've killed you?"

        "It's iron."

        "So...?"

        "When iron touches a Faery's skin, it burns everything that it touches. If that shot got inside me it would've burned me straight through," Adrian said as he opened a small closet to reveal an array of medical supplies. He removed a bottle of antiseptic and a roll of bandages. He winced when he heard Sam cry out in pain. Intense guilt washed over him, but he had to force that aside if he wanted to help at all. He turned from the closet and knelt beside Sam, "Okay, Dean, I'm going to need you to hold the pellets when they come out, cause I can't touch them."

        Dean nodded and knelt on the opposite side of Sam, "How are you going to get them out?"

        "It's hard to explain. Just watch," Adrian instructed. He quickly stripped Sam of his shirt and raised an open hand above the hunter's chest. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before shooting them open. His eyes flashed an aggressive purple and he began chanting in a language Dean didn't understand, " _Imnehk Tohk, Imnehk Tohk, Imnehk Tohk,"_ He muttered over and over again. 

        Suddenly, after a few minutes of nothing, Sam's body began to shake and his torso jerked up. His hands clenched and his toes curled in his shoes as the small, circular pellets began tearing their way back out of Sam's skin. A scream tore from his throat as blood poured from the wounds.         

        Dean began pulling the pellets out of the air as they flew towards Adrian's palm. Once he had a little over a dozen pellets in his hand, Adrian pulled his hand away and the spell stopped. "What now?" Dean asked. 

        "I'm going to heal the wounds. This part is going to take a long time, because healing is not one of my strengths."

        "Is there anything that you need me to do?" Dean asked.

        Adrian thought for a moment, "Up the stairs and to the left there is a small bedroom. There is a dresser that has a lot of extra clothes in it. Sam and I seem to be about the same height, so there should be something in there that fits him. His clothes are dirty and beyond repair and it would be nice for him to wake up in something fresh. So, if you would grab him something that would be excellent."

        "Sure. I'll be right back down," He said with a nod before heading up the indicated staircase. He entered the small room and immediately located the dresser Adrian had been talking about. He opened the top drawer and recoiled slightly at the array of weapons sitting before him. There were all sorts of daggers, knives, arrows, bow string, darts, and there was even a whip coiled in the corner.  _Why doesn't he carry any of this on him?_ Dean thought as he quickly shut the drawer, not wanting to think about what all those weapons could be used for. He opened the next drawer down to find an array of candles, notebooks, and dried herbs. He closed the drawer, figuring everything in the drawer was just for medicines or prayers of some sort. Dean thought he had finally found the clothes Adrian had mentioned in the third drawer, but he quickly realized the third drawer was loaded with different types of battle gear: chest plates, leather guards, helmets, masks, sandals, gauntlets, and much more. 

         "Are you coming down?" Dean snapped the drawer shut when he heard Adrian's voice float up the stairs. 

         "Yeah! I'm just trying to find something that will fit. He's taller than you and I just didn't want to pick something that wouldn't fit." Dean called back down. He pulled open the bottom drawer to finally find the extra clothes he was looking for. He pulled out a large hooded sweatshirt and a pair of slick joggers. He wanted to find things that would be easy to dress Sam in and that wouldn't push against his skin so much. He also picked up a pair of socks. The house was a little chilly and he wanted to make sure Sam was going to be as comfortable as possible. He didn't know how much Adrian was willing to do for his brother, but he didn't want to press his luck. Dean picked up the bundle of clothes and went back down the stairs and knelt on the opposite side of Sam from Adrian. "How's he holding up?"

         Adrian quickly glanced up at Dean before returning his attention to Sam. "He is going to make it out of this fine, but he is going to be relatively weak for a while. I might contact a friend of mine to see if there's anything further I can do to help out with the extreme muscle soreness and tension that he is going to feel after this."

         Dean nodded, "But he won't be in any pain when you're finished?"

         "He shouldn't be. I can take him through some exercises to make sure none of his muscles lock or tear or anything along those lines once he's awake and up to it." 

         "Thank you," Dean said. "You didn't have to come back any help him."

         "I've seen enough suffering and death in my life. And what you and Sam do... you both are trying to do the right thing. We have common enemies and common goals." Adrian said. The light shining from his fingers danced across Sam's chest, mending tissue and repairing cracked bones. "And we should be in the clear for a while. It always takes them at least two weeks to track my portal signature."

          "Why does it take them so long? Wouldn't they have figured out how to do it faster by now?"

          "You would think so," Adrian said with a smirk and a shake of his head. "They think the way they've been able to track me up until now is genius. They found some old spell that dates back thousands of years, but all they need to do is find someone witch who is easily swayed by money. Then they have a portal in a day or two and they aren't wasting all this time." He snorted and focused his magick on a different part of Sam's chest. "But, who am I to complain? It keeps them off my tail for longer, so it's not skin off my back."

           "Are there many Faery hunters left?" Dean asked, his curiosity peaking. 

           "More than you would think. Not a lot of them are active, however,  because there are about eighty times more hunters than Faery. That's probably why you haven't run into one before."

           "And they only hunt Faery?" Dean caught himself as soon as the words came out of his mouth. "Sorry, that sounded insensitive. I don't want to be rude.    

           Adrian shook his head and looked up and Dean, "Don't worry about it. I understand your curiosity. But, yes, they do only hunt my people. Catching up to and... killing a Faery is significantly more different than your regular hunt. It's like trying to kill a deity. So, these people train since birth to try and kill us."

           "Why does it take them so long to identify you? In that town back there... how do you keep your identity a secret? Can't they tell it's you?"

           "When I was younger it was so easy for them to know it was me. But, now I have a stronger glamour that can mask even my magickal signature. I am also able to change my physical appearance from time to time so that throws them off my trail even more. And really, as long as I keep most of my face glamoured it's hard for them to tell. Again, outdated spellwork."

            "What about your face do you have to glamour?"

            "Let me just show you. Sam has enough magick in his system that can start to do some of it's work on his own." Adrian said as he kind of started to pull his hands away from Sam's chest. "I don't want to pump too much into him. As for my face... I'm trusting you with this. Not a lot of hunters - Faery or otherwise - have seen what I'm going to show you. Can I trust you with this?"

            Dean nodded immediately. "Of course you can. I think we're over being enemies."

            "Okay. Thank you." Adrian closed his eyes and immediately the space around his face began to shimmer for a moment. The tops of his ears began to appear gnarled and scarred, his cheek bones began to become far more pronounced, and his teeth began to become sharp and jagged. When he opened his eyes, aggressive violet eyes met Dean's. "That's much better."

            Dean's eyes widened, "Your teeth..."

            "Are sharper than you imagined?" Adrian smirked. "Yeah. We don't eat meat, but we eat a lot of tough roots and a lot of the fruit where we come from has really tough rinds, so they're mostly for tearing. Our back teeth are good for grinding, though."

            Dean nodded and turned his attention to Adrian's ears, "What happened to the tops of your ears? I thought Faery were supposed to have pointed ears."

            "We are. I did. I think you saw in one of my memories... the kids cut the tops of my ears off." He lifted his left hand and pressed it against his ear. "I am actually completely deaf in my left ear. I magickally enhanced the hearing in my right ear to compensate as much as I can, but it's still not perfect. Manageable, though." 

            The older Winchester nodded and then turned his attention to Sam, "So, is there anything else that you can do for him right now? What did you mean when you didn't want to pump too much magick into him?"

            "Well, since he hasn't been introduced to such high levels of magick and since he isn't a naturally magickal being, his system isn't used to having so much magickal energy in it. So, there's plenty of healing magick in him right now, it just needs to finish the mending process."

            "How long will that take?"

            "Maybe another hour or two." Adrian stood from his kneeling position. "You want a drink while we wait? I've got a whole cabinet. 

            Dean groaned, "God, do I want a drink."


End file.
